Cassidy fidgeted with her fingers before resting her chin on her hands. She looked everywhere except at him. When she finally got the nerve to do so, she discovered that he was gazing at her intently, head nodding with furrowed brows like he was coming to some conclusion.
"What?" she asked, intrigued by the look on his face.
"You're just as mesmerizing as when I saw you last."
"And you're still a mystery to me," she replied back.
He raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders at the same time.
"What do you wanna know?"
"For starters, why did you leave such a huge tip? And the flowers that came the next day?"
"Can't you just be appreciative and say thank you?"
"Oh, thank you! " Cassidy exclaimed, feeling somewhat chastised. Why did he make her feel so guilty?
"That's my girl. And I was only kidding. In all seriousness, the tip was for your company. I made you stay longer at the café when you could have been on your way home and I felt lousy about that. The flowers … well, they were just to remind you how much I enjoyed talking to you," Tristan explained with a gentleness and sincerity in his captivating eyes.
"First of all, I'm not your girl," Cassidy began, only to quickly be interrupted.
"We could remedy that … " Tristan chuckled.
"Wha … "
This was getting confusing.
Cassidy carried on like she'd misheard. She must have. Or did she?
"Nobody leaves a $500.00 tip! Well, maybe in the movies they do, but not in the real world. And the flowers were a little too excessive for the pleasure of my company."
"So you didn't like it?" Tristan asked in concern.
"What? The tip?"
"No, the flowers," he answered.
"Yes, I liked them. They were beautiful."
"So … you liked them?"
"Yes, that‘s what I just said," Cassidy replied in annoyance.
"Then why are we even having this conversation?" Tristan joked.
Cassidy looked at him in exasperation.
"Tristan … I … I … "
"I like it when you say my name."
"You're an incorrigible flirt," Cassidy accused with a grin.
Tristan burst out laughing and she realized she liked the way it sounded.
"Are you always this way with women?" she asked.
"No, not always. Only to the ones I really like."
"So you like me then?"
"What's there not to like about you?" Tristan asked, giving her a sweeping look.
"Duh! I work at a local café while you do beautiful photography … and drive a BMW. We have nothing in common."
"The car could just be a rental, and I could be a struggling photographer trying to make a name for myself," Tristan answered with a serious face.
"Is it a rental?" Cassidy's brow raised in curiosity. "Somehow, I don't think it is. You and that car make a good pair. It's like you two belong together."
"It's just a car, Cassidy," Tristan laughed. "It doesn't define who I am."
He didn't answer her questions directly, but Cassidy was capable of reaching her own logical conclusions. She didn't know much about luxury vehicles, but she knew enough to know he drove a very expensive one. One that he couldn't possibly afford if he was just a struggling photographer.
No, there was something more to him. Cassidy knew it. There was an air about him … and it drew her. She was intrigued by him. It wasn't just the movie-star looks. Good-looking guys were a dime a dozen in New York. Even the gay men were ridiculously handsome. Tristan was different, however. He exuded authority somehow, like he always had the last word in everything, although he managed to camouflage it by his seemingly casual and friendly manner. Cassidy couldn't put a finger on it yet, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something.
A thought flashed through her mind and almost made her choke on her slice of pizza. It was piping hot and she was carefully trying not to burn her tongue.
"Ahm you maw-ried?" she jumbled, reaching for the soda to push the food down her throat.
"Excuse me?" Tristan chuckled.
"Are you married?" she blurted, the words coming out clearly this time.
Tristan shook his head, while replying, "No, no, no. I'm definitely not married, I promise you." After a short pause he added earnestly, "Hell, I don't even have a girlfriend. If I did, I would have mentioned it before I asked you out."
Okay, so he seemed straightforward and candid. That was like a breath of fresh air in New York City. She trusted he was being sincere, leaned back, and resumed eating. The pizza tasted even better now that she knew he was single.
"That was a load off your mind, huh?" Tristan remarked with a grin.
Cassidy nodded her head truthfully, remembering her share of those knotty relationships. Most guys didn't advertise their status or deliberately hid the truth. She was quite naïve when she first came to the Big Apple and had fallen prey a couple of times in the past.
To her credit, those experiences had made her wiser and less susceptible to sweet talkers. She discovered that men were often intimidated by her candor. Most girls preferred to play the game of seduction with blatant disregard for the consequences. Too many stories of unwanted pregnancies and botched abortions had made her wary.
Tristan felt different. There was real potential here, and she knew it. The thought that it might lead to something more excited and exhilarated her. And, right now, his attraction for her was obvious. She felt it in the way he looked at her. Like she was the only girl in the world.
Cassidy recognized the reason she felt let down when he didn't show sooner. Most guys would have pressed their intentions immediately just to prove they were interested, yet he didn't. It took him almost a week to come looking for her, and this made her wonder what his game was.
However, for once in her life she wanted to throw caution to the wind as she accepted her own attraction for him. She was overcome by a tingly feeling like cold water washing over her on a very hot summer day. Her body vibrated and hummed like she was coming to life.
She also recognized the sexual arousal as her breasts tightened. Her nipples puckered, feeling sensitive as they rubbed against her cotton blouse. Tristan drew closer and Cassidy caught the slight movement through half-closed eyes. He was near enough that she caught the scent of the cologne he was wearing. She looked at him, her body language telling him it was okay to come even closer.
For a split second she worried he wasn't picking up on the cue until he finally leaned in and his shoulder touched hers. Like kindling touched by a match, her body lit up. She hoped he wouldn't see her strong reaction. She'd play it cool with him, she silently resolved. She didn't know enough about him yet to ignite the passion fire.
"Tell me about your friends," Tristan said. His grey-green eyes looked into hers inquisitively. Did he really want to know so much about her? She figured it was better than talking about mom and dad, or telling him about the money she sent to them on a regular basis and how she earned it.
"I know some people, like the gang at the coffee shop, but I don't really have good friends here. You know, the kind that know all of your secrets. I haven't met anyone I'm comfortable enough around to get that deep with. It's all friendly banter and what's happening in the news." She still felt his shoulder now solidly against her side. It was as though her left side was glowing.
"So, what do you do when you're not working at the coffee shop?" he asked, and sounded like he genuinely wanted to know. What could she tell him? She had to think of something... fast. He couldn't know that her "spare" time was really spent working at a scandalous second job that made her wildly uncomfortable. Should she tell him about her secret dream? No, not on a first date. She wanted to be a great writer, and her latest notebook was yet another testament to that. Other women had done it, so why not her? She made her answer bland instead.
"The days at the café are long. By the time I get home I just want to crash. As soon as I walk through the door I put on my comfy clothes and veg. What do you do when you're not taking photos?" If she turned the conversation back on him, she knew she'd temporarily be off the hook.
Tristan pulled his shoulder away and Cassidy felt a sudden longing. What? From a mere shoulder touch? She had more control than that.